In Stitches
by horus42
Summary: A man wakes up, covered in scars, with no memory of what happened to him or who he is.


Disclaimer: Although I don't think they're going to sue some random guy on the internet who wrote a story, I don't own any of white-wolf's property. So, yeah...

My first and earliest memory is when I opened my eyes and saw that room for the first time. I remember nothing before that, except blackness. I looked around the room. Everything was sterile and white, everything but the cold metal table I awoke on. I had no idea where I was. Hell, I had no idea _who_ I was. All I knew was that I shouldn't be there.

I tried to sit up, but I was strapped down. I tried harder, with all my might, and the leather straps gave way. I knew leather didn't break that easily, but I thought nothing of it at the time.

I could then see that the room was more like a lab. Test tubes and beakers filled with various chemicals lined the shelves, books lay scattered on the floor. Machines sitting next to the table monitored my vital signs.

I stepped down from the table and began looking for a way out. I didn't know where, or even who I was, but I knew I had to get away. There were no windows, but fortunately for me, the door was unlocked. The door creaked forward on rusty hinges, and revealed a dark, narrow corridor. The only light came from a smaller, wooden door that had been left slightly ajar. I went to the other door and opened it, and saw what appeared to be an ordinary bedroom.

I investigated further, and saw something that will haunt me for all my days. I saw my reflection. What I saw first wasn't so bad. I was tall, nearly eight feet by my guess. My eyes were different colors, one brown, and one blue. A thin scar ran diagonally across my face. That drew attention to the rest of me, and I was horrified. I was hideously scarred; freshly healed lacerations covered my torso. My limbs had numerous poorly stitched wounds, as did my chest.

"Dear God…" I almost didn't realize that I'd spoken out loud. My first thought was that I'd been in a terrible accident, and that I was in a hospital. I soon came to realize that a surgeon wouldn't have done such a poor job with my stitches. I threw on some clothes that I found and tried to collect my thoughts. Was I being tortured? Was I a prisoner in some sort of terrorist hostage plot? Why didn't I remember anything? I didn't know. I couldn't know.

I exited the bedroom, and felt around the hallway, trying to find another door. After blindly stumbling for a few minutes, I managed to find one. I turned the knob, and the door gave way to another strange room. It was completely empty, except for a cage in the center. In that cage, there was an arm. A severed _human_ arm, cut off just below the elbow. Why anyone would keep an arm in a cage both disgusted and intrigued me. I stepped closer for a better look. As I approached, to my astonishment, the arm twitched. It got up, standing on its fingers like a grotesque spider, and began circling the interior of its prison. It turned to me as I knelt beside the cage, and it _opened its eyes._ I thought that maybe it was some sort of genetic experiment, but I had no clue what it was.

I opened the cage, and the arm leaped out at me. A drooling maw filled with razor sharp teeth was on its palm. I jumped back, but too late. It latched on to my shoulder and sank its fangs into my flesh. I gave a cry of agony and rage that shook the ground. Infuriated, I tore the thing off of me. I grasped it with both hands, and snapped it in half. The bones splintered beneath my might. I knew that its bones shouldn't have broken with so little effort; I couldn't understand how I had killed it so easily.

I clutched my shoulder where it had bitten me. When I pulled my hand away from the wound, I noticed that my blood was different than it should have been. It was a sickly, pale orange, and had an odd consistency. It wasn't right, it wasn't… Normal…

I was done with that place. I ran out of that room as fast as I could, and continued all the way down the hall. I jumped through the first window I found. Shards of glass fell around me like a lethal snow as I hit the ground. The concrete below shattered when I landed. I found myself standing in a dank, dark alley. A sliver of light was visible from a streetlight on the other side.

I sprinted out of the alley and into the street. A Dodge Neon screeched to a halt, narrowly avoiding me. The driver stepped out of her car.

"Hey moron, what's your problem?" She stormed toward me, pointing an accusing finger. "What were you thinking? I almost ran you over!" She was livid, and I didn't think that such a tiny woman could be full of so much anger.

I attempted to appease her, "I'm sorry, but there's someone trying to do…something…to me." I indicated my scars.

"Oh my God…" She trailed off, all her anger dissipated in that moment. "I see now… You've got to be in excruciating pain." She seemed embarrassed by her previous outburst.

"I just need help." I managed to say.

"Hop in; I'll give you a ride to a hospital."

"No, that's not what I need. I need somewhere I can hide."

She seemed pensive for a moment. "You can stay at my place for a few days, but I don't want the monster that did this to you to find me…" I could tell she was afraid.

I thanked her profusely as I sat in the passenger's seat of her Neon. After she started the car, I asked her what her name was.

"Marie." She said, "What's yours?"

I answered as honestly as I could. "I don't know. I don't remember anything before tonight."

"Why?"

"I'm guessing that it has a lot to do with my scars, and what they did to me. I just want a place to stay for a while, collect myself, and prepare for my revenge." I could tell that Marie was getting uncomfortable, so I stopped talking. Neither of us spoke again until we reached her apartment building. We rode the elevator in silence. The double doors slid open, and we walked into the hall.

"It's this way." She said. "Apartment D6." She took her key from her pocket and unlocked the door. Her apartment was small and modest. An overstuffed sofa sat across from a small TV, and a bookshelf occupied a corner. She flipped on the lights. "It's not much, but it's home." She sighed.

"I think it's nice." I said. "It's certainly the best place I can remember being in." I was both telling the truth, and trying to make her feel better.

"Aw… Thanks." She gave a half-hearted smile. I didn't think my opinion comforted her much.

"I don't mean to be rude, but where am I going to sleep? I'm exhausted."

She pondered for a brief moment. "You can have the couch I suppose." Then a moment later, "Hold on, I'll be right back," as she went into her bedroom. She returned a moment later with a pillow and some blankets. I again thanked her. She said it was no trouble at all, and then she gave a simple "Goodnight," before returning to her room. As soon as my head touched the pillow, I was asleep.

When I awoke the next morning, Marie was making breakfast. I walked into her kitchen, and she became very distressed when she saw me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing I suppose. I just had a nightmare last night. You were in it."

"What happened?"

"You just…attacked me. You grabbed me by the throat and broke my neck."

"Don't worry about that, I would never hurt an innocent person."

A look of terror came over her. "Oh my God…that's what you said in the dream right before you killed me…except in the dream, you put extra emphasis on 'innocent'."

I thought that maybe she was just having a bad reaction to my appearance, so I just tried to calm her down. "I'm sure that's just a coincidence. Think about it this way, as far as I know, you're the only person who has ever helped me. Why would I hurt you?"

"I guess that's true…" She still didn't seem sure.

She became increasingly uneasy as the day passed. It seemed as though the more time we spent together, the more uncomfortable she became. It wasn't just her either. Everyone I met that day had a strange sense of disquiet about them. No matter where we went, everyone had seemed oddly disturbed by my presence. I just shrugged it off and attributed it to the way I looked. I figured my scars and stitches triggered the fear I could see in their faces when they looked upon mine.

Later that night, I was awakened by Marie screaming. I jumped off the couch and ran to her room. She was sitting upright, drenched in sweat.

She gave a startled cry when she saw me. "What are you doing in my room?!"

"I heard you scream and thought you might be in danger. I thought that maybe whoever did this to me had found you."

"No," she sighed, "it was another nightmare. It was so vivid, it almost seemed real… You grasped my neck and crushed my windpipe…" She trailed off; the horror of her nightmare seemed to catch up with her.

"You know I'd never hurt you, we've been through this!" I was trying to appeal to her sense of reason.

"That's what you said in the dream!" She had a look of sheer terror on her face. "This is too strange to just be a coincidence. Get out!"

"What? Why?" I protested.

"Because I don't think it's safe to keep an eight foot monstrosity in my house anymore!"

"Seven foot nine actually."

"Get, out, now!" She was adamant, and I left with no further protest. I had nowhere else to go, so I resigned myself to life on the streets. I found myself sleeping in an alley, and digging through dumpsters for food. If I was lucky, someone would toss me a dollar or two, but that rarely happened. Every few days I'd go back to the places I went with Marie, just to get some human interaction. Every time I went, they treated me slightly worse. At first they were just uneasy, but soon it became rudeness, acting out in spite, then hatred. Before too long, I was banned from ever returning.

During the time when they kept up their façade of politeness, they would tell me about their nightmares. Each person had a different dream, but one thing was consistent. In each dream, I would kill the dreamer in the way they feared dying most. I would always try to reassure them, and they would always say that in their nightmares I had spoken those exact same words right before I killed them.

I had never felt more abandoned. I didn't do anything to those people, and yet they treated me like I wasn't even a person. I was nothing to them. I was scum, a freak, to them. I couldn't see how they could have such bitter hatred for someone who had never done them any harm. The spite and anger they felt due to my presence was mind blowing. It was so intense…I didn't know how to react. I just kept all my emotions bottled up inside.

After a few weeks on the streets, they came for me. The largest number of people I'd ever seen at once gathered in my alley. They were armed, and I was afraid for the first time since I woke up in that lab. I didn't show it, I hardened my resolve. "What do you want?" I asked in a harsh voice, in an attempt to scare them off.

One man who seemed braver than the rest stepped forward. "Well, we…uh…think that you are a menace to society, and we're here to put an end to your reign of terror."

"Oh? Have you?" I strode forward and drew to my full height. The leader took a step or two back, he seemed more afraid than I felt. "You think my minding my own business was a reign of terror? I'd hate to see how you people would react if I was actually trying to frighten you." I took another step, and the man shrank back into the crowd.

Someone else shouted, "He can't handle us all, let's get him!" The mob charged me, and they were overwhelming. There were far too many of them, all beating me, punching, kicking, stabbing...but I threw them off of me with one smooth spinning motion. Some fled after that, but others were more bold. One man with a baseball bat ran toward me, and was very surprised when I caught it. I tightened my grip till the wood splintered. He was almost as surprised as I was. I took advantage of his distraction and gave him a swift uppercut to the jaw. I could feel his teeth shatter from my blow, and he was out for the count. I expected more of them to run after that grandiose display, but they only became more determined to defeat me.

I felt a sharp pain in my back, and all my rage came to the surface. I couldn't control it anymore. I could feel it flowing through me like a current, and I gave in to it. I turned around, blinded by my fury, and grabbed the woman who had stabbed me by the throat. I lifted her up and slammed her against a wall. The bricks were broken by the force of the impact, and I felt the satisfying crunch of the bones in her neck breaking. Her body went limp in my hand, and my rage began to subside.

I began thinking clearly again, and I was horrified by what I had done. It was Marie. I killed Marie… She had taken me into her home when I was desperate and lost, and I repaid her by breaking her neck. The lull in my fury was short. These people had brought Marie along, they were trying to kill me; I only killed in self-defense. My anger took over again. I jumped, higher than I knew a normal person could, to the top of the nearest building. I was planning on just running away, but the mob had other plans. One of them pulled out a handgun and shot me. I was already in a state of no control, and the anger climaxed with the bullet digging into my flesh. The current in me became so strong that I couldn't contain it. Sparks flew from my fingertips, and bolts of lightning arced from my hands to the ground. The mob scattered after this, they knew for sure that they couldn't win.

I had nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide and nothing more I could do. I knew then what had to be done. I prepared to exact my revenge on the monster that did this to me. I found my way back to the place where the lab had been. I knew what I was going to do. I just knew that I had to kill them with my bare hands. It was the only way I could get proper revenge, the only way justice could be served.

I got a running start and smashed through the door. The heavy oak splintered as I pushed my shoulder through. Then I laid eyes on him for the first time. He was much like me, yet not like me at all. He had the same kinds of scars, the same poorly done stitches, yet unlike me his skin was dark as night.

"Ah, Tobias, I'm so glad to finally meet you." He smiled widely at me.

"T-Tobias… Is that my name? How do you know my name? Who am I?"

He chuckled quietly. "Yes, Tobias is your name. I know it because I gave it to you."

I looked at him in utter shock. "You gave me my name? No, you're lying… You have to be." I stammered, unable to come up with more for my argument.

"No Tobias, everything I've said to you is true." He stepped closer to me and extended his hand. "Come with me, I'll show you everything."

"No." I was sure he had to be lying. "I don't believe you, Liar!" I charged at him, wildly swinging my fists. He jumped over me like a cat, did a somersault, and rose into a fighting stance. He ran at me; striking me in the throat. I fell to my knees, gasping for breath. He placed his right hand on my shoulder.

"There's no use fighting. You have great potential, but it's just that, potential. You fight purely based on unbridled rage, and a bit of finesse would do you a world of good. I've been at this for decades Tobias, you don't stand a chance." I simply spat in his face. He sighed. "Have it your way." The grip he had on my shoulder became tighter and tighter. He continued crushing my shoulder well beyond the limits of a normal person until I felt my collarbone snap. I gave a small yelp, but contained myself. I didn't want to appear weak, and I knew I wasn't going to give up.

My arm was useless, but I was undeterred. I still stood, and then roundhouse kicked him in the face. He had an incredulous look on his face, and stood in disbelief as he spat out a tooth. He wiped a trickle of orange blood from the corner of his mouth, and gave a surprised chortle. "Maybe I was wrong about you Tobias. You might actually be stronger than I thought."

He grabbed my arm and flipped me over his shoulder. I felt the crushing weight of his massive foot pressing on my chest, preventing me from getting back up. I heard the sound of shattering porcelain and looked up to see him holding the remains of a broken vase.

He hung his head and sighed with what seemed like disappointment. "I'm sorry it had to come to this Tobias, but it's for your own good." He bent down and slit my throat with the jagged end of the vase. I clutched my throat, gasping for breath, but all I could do was sputter. I was drowning in the vile orange goo that served as my blood, and all I could think about was how I failed to avenge my stolen life. The familiar blackness took hold of my mind once again.

I awoke; my breath was shallow and quick. I looked around the room. Everything was sterile and white, everything except the cold metal table I awoke on. To my horror, I realized that it was the same room I had woken up in before. I wasn't strapped down this time, but shackled. He walked in the door. "You're awake!" He said cheerfully. "Good."

"Who are you?" I asked. I knew I was going to have to entertain his lies for the time being.

"Oh, I almost forgot! Where are my manners? I am Raphael." He gave an odd sort of bow.

"Well Raphael, why did you slit my throat if you weren't going to let me die?"

"I did." He seemed so calm, so oblivious to the fact that he wasn't making any sense. He began circling the table, making broad gestures as he spoke. "I let you die Tobias; you just…woke up, as it were."

I just stared at him in disbelief. "People don't just 'wake up' from death!"

"Correct." He said. "Humans don't come back from the dead. Good thing you aren't human."

My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. "What are you talking about? Of course I'm human. If I wasn't, what else could I be?"

"You were once human. No, let me rephrase that, because that's inaccurate. You were once eight humans."

I laughed. "Oh, well that explains everything, you're obviously insane!"

"No. I collected organs and appendages from eight human corpses, stitched them together, and brought you to life with a jolt of electricity. The same way my creator built me."

"That sounds like a scene out of Frankenstein."

"Well, yes. Victor Frankenstein created the first of our kind."

"Well now I'm sure you're insane. Frankenstein is just a book. You're clearly delusional. It didn't really happen."

"Oh but that's where you're wrong. Dr. Frankenstein's creation told Ms. Shelly his story, who distorted some of the facts to make the tale more 'interesting'."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I don't believe it, I can't believe it."

"Then ask yourself Tobias, why don't you remember anything before that night when you woke up on this table?" As much as I hated to admit it, he was starting to make sense.

"You did something to me, you brainwashed me, or erased my memory, or something like that." I still didn't want to admit that he was right.

"No. You don't remember anything before, then because you didn't exist prior to that moment. Your life began when you woke up on the slab, as it were, for the first time."

When coupled with all the other odd things that had happened to me in the past few weeks, I realized that Raphael might actually be telling the truth. After that, I could only think of one question. I asked him why he made me.

"It's one of the things each of us must do to achieve the ultimate prize."

I didn't understand what he meant by "ultimate prize", so I asked him what that was.

"Each of our kind must pass this curse on to a new creation to obtain the one thing that puts people's minds to ease. Their nightmares stop, the torches of angry mobs are extinguished, the humans treat you as equals instead of second class beings."

"But what exactly is it?" I asked, fed up with his cryptic explanations.

"A soul," He became very anguished. "Neither of us has one, nor does any other of our kind."

I became very curious. "Is that why humans treat us the way they do?"

"Yes. They can subconsciously sense that there is something missing, that we aren't whole, and that there is something inherently wrong with us."

"What happens when we get a soul?"

"We become human. We lose our prodigious strength, our powers, and our ability to return from death, but we can finally get peace and acceptance. Our scars fade, our wounds heal, and the stitches disappear. We can truly integrate ourselves into human society."

I had many more questions, but Raphael stopped me short. "I've got a surprise for you. Think of it as a birthday present." He released me from the shackles, and I sat up. I rubbed my wrists in an attempt to return the circulation. He then took me to the bedroom where I had first seen my reflection. "Let's make you look respectable." He handed me a beige trench coat and a matching fedora. "Go ahead and put them on, I'll be waiting on the roof." He left as I thanked him.

I met him on the roof wearing my new coat and hat. They felt like they were made for me, and I wouldn't have been surprised if they actually were. I had more questions, and I actually had to a chance to ask them now. "How do I become human?"

"Everyone's pilgrimage is different. The only constant is creating another of our kind." We didn't speak for a while. I had so much to ask, and I didn't even know where to start. Raphael broke the ice. "I saw that you killed what was left of your sister."

"My sister, do you mean the arm-thing?"

"That's what happens when an attempt to create another of our kind goes awry. The pieces break apart and become those horrid little monsters."

"As opposed to horrid giant monsters?" I asked.

"I prefer not to be called a monster, which makes me despair. The hope that I could one day become human is all that keeps me going. The small chance that I could conceivably be normal is all that makes me continue my quest." He sighed, but took a few steps closer. He put his arm around me and spoke in a loving tone, almost like how a parent would speak to their child. "Tobias, my son, you are about to begin a long and arduous journey. However, if you are up to the challenge, the reward is far greater than anything you could possibly imagine."


End file.
